


Boundless & Infinite

by raasenpai



Category: Original Work
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Blood, Dark, Dysfunctional Relationships, Gentle Sex, Jealousy, M/M, Mental Instability, Murder, Murder Kink, One True Pairing, POV Original Character, Possessive Behavior, Praise Kink, Sadism, Serial Killers, Twisted and Fluffy Feelings, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-06
Updated: 2017-04-06
Packaged: 2018-10-15 11:24:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10555492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raasenpai/pseuds/raasenpai
Summary: "He was the storm and I was the fucking storm chaser. Driving stupidly into danger so that I could get a good picture. See the good of the storm. See how beautiful it is in the chaos. I was an imbecile, still looking for the eye. For the calm in the storm. "--Who is more twisted, the one who kills, or the one who enjoys it?





	

I love him. Through all the blood, and the tears, and the cigar filled rooms smelling of gore and rust ...I love him. He was the storm and I was the fucking storm chaser. Driving stupidly into danger so that I could get a good picture. See the good of the storm. See how beautiful it is in the chaos. I was an imbecile, still looking for the eye. For the calm in the storm. 

We met when we were children. J was a mop of red hair and freckles with a smile that could kill cockroaches. He told me he thought I looked like a girl and that he wanted to be my boyfriend. Back then I had hair down my back and I wore long tee shirts so you really couldn't tell. When I assured him I was a male, he still wanted to be my boyfriend. He took my hand and introduced himself as Jason Grant. We stayed that way for as long as I can remember. He was the one with the plans. The one with the tools. The one with that fucking smile. I wanted so badly to just get outta town. Go to college like my folks wanted. Leave this place. Leave J behind. But he was too dumb for school. Dropping out when he was barely 16 to smoke cigars down by the docks and peddle dirty magazines to kids. 

I don't remember when I realized I loved him. It might have been when I was 13 and he told me that he wanted to marry me when we were older. I had told him then he was a faggot and he punched me so hard it bruised for a month. I knew then that he was the one I wanted to be with. It still makes me smile when I think about it. When I turned 18, he bought me a bottle of scotch and we got so drunk I told him I loved him and he called me a faggot. Then we kissed each other for 2 hours. I had never been so happy in my entire life. 

Now we were here. I'd never been more in love with J. We were older now. More mature. He has a beard and large horn-rimmed glasses. He smokes and drinks too much and pretends to love the same music I do when we're in my basement. He took over his dead grandma’s house when she passed and I find myself there most times. He told me I could move in, but it makes me antsy there. It smells too much like copper and bleach.  
\--

It was summer, and we lean on his car by the 7/11 near Smith and Church street. He smokes a cigar like usual and I let the trail loop and curl over my face like a seductive whisper. I shudder. I drink a coke bottle he bought me. The young paperboy passes us a paper for a few bucks and J opens it up with a scratch to his head. 

“Well isn't that a bitch. Another teenage girl snatched up and missing in the city over. Such a shame, huh? She was a beaut, too. Pretty little blonde. Kinda like you, Oli.” I shrug my shoulders as I tend to ignore him when he got this way. It always made me nauseous. 

I turn my head and look up again when he lets out a low whistle. 

“Well, lookie there.” I notice the young girl coming out of the grocery store next door. She’s young. Probably 14 or 15. She has long hair in a tight ponytail which bounces as she moves. Her shorts are so short you could see the outline of her panties. Her shirt is white and tucked in and you can see her bright pink bra. Her lips are the same bright pink. Her eyes are the color of the sky. A picturesque blue/Grey. 

“Hey, little lady! Having some trouble?” J calls out to her, and the look on her face is startled. She probably was told never to talk to strangers. Especially ones that were so much older than her. From the lipstick on her mouth and the makeup rimming her eyes, she is a rebellious young woman. I feel for her. I cringe as he grins again. That fucking smile. 

“You look like you're down on your luck there, Miss. Got a lot of bags there.” 

“Yeah, um, my Ma wanted me to get the groceries. She's real sick.” The young girl twirls the bags in her hand casually. 

“Well we gotta car here. Why don't we take you home? It's probably a long walk.”

“Um…” she bites her lip and twists the bag more. 

“My name is Jason. This here is Oliver. We're buddies. We can take you home. Right, Oli?” I turn to her and smile the best I can. Her face seems to light up and become a lot more alert when she turns to me. I am the look. The charm. With my blonde hair and blue eyes. No blemishes or scars on me except the one above my right eye. It was all supermodel good looks that I rely on. She bites her lip and moves towards us, her hips swaying in a way I assume she thinks is seductive. Her breast are raised high and her eyes are hooked on my face. Her lips pull back into a smile. 

“My name is Betty-Ann” she says to me, batting her lashes and giggling. I wanted so much to just scowl, but I smile back. 

“Nice to meet you.” J wraps an arm around my neck.

“Oli and I wanna take you home. That's okay, right?” She blushes. 

“Sure.” She hoist her bags in the car and gets into the back seat. I slide in the passenger and J into the driver. He crooks a brow at me and winks. I know this is going to be horrible. I know I shouldn't do this. Do what he says. But something deep down inside me just needs to be with him. 

As he starts up the car, J makes small talk. 

“So, how old are you?”

“15. I go to the high school up the street.”

“Oh really? That sounds interesting.” He puts on a radio station and begins to hum along to a popular song. My mind is blink. My thoughts are blank. I don’t even want to exist. In this moment, I am not even sure that I do.

“So, Oliver, how old you are?” She asks me with a flirty grin. 

“20” I say back with what little energy I have. 

“Not too much older then, yeah?” She tries to make it sound casual. She wants me. I know. I might even think about being with a girl like her if he wasn't here. If I wasn't so hopelessly in love. I could see getting married and having kids and raising a family in a big house in the suburbs. Of course, I could not do that. Not without J. 

When I was a kid, I used to believe we were fused. We were one in the same. I was like J and J was me. I was a different part of him. He was the other part. He was fun. He was clever. He knew jokes and tall tales and we used to tell gossip on the phone all night till I couldn't take it anymore and fell asleep and woke up to his shallow breathing. If that isn’t romance, I don’t know what is. 

Now we were here. In this car together with this young girl. Her hair blows in the wind from the top down and she soaks in the rays from the sun as she and J sing along to the radio. It was beautiful. This was how life was supposed to be. 

That was until the news bulletin came on. They were looking for missing girls. Missing teenagers. Girls with homes and families. Girls who's mamas miss them and want them home. I began to dry heave as I hear it. 

“Pull over” I beg J. He does as I ask and I throw up in the grass. My whole lunch down the drain. 

“What's wrong with him?” Betty-Ann asks J with a misplaced tone of worry.

“Gets car sick real easy. Happens all the time. Poor guy.” He takes my hand and rubs my back as I puke. He puts some hair behind my ears and kisses the back on my neck when she isn't looking.

“Hey, it's okay, honey. We’ll be okay.” God how I want to believe him. 

As we get back in the car, his hand on mine is the only reassurance I have. Some small bit of comfort to hold me over. I know this wasn't right. I know we can’t do this anymore. I wish I had the strength in me to tell him no, but he always pulls me back in. 

“So what kinda music you like, Betty?” He asks as he looks at her through the rear mirror. She bits her lip and thinks. 

“I guess...maybe the old school stuff? You know, pop music is way too generic and boring. Played out.” I know she’s trying to sound mature. Her legs are crossed as she lay in the back seat. Hair spilling down like the sun’s rays from above. She seems to be out of her element. I wonder what drove her here. Poor little girl trying to impress much older boys. I bit my lip and squeeze J’s hand. I silently beg him to just take her home. Just do it.

“Oh, yeah? I have a lot of good records at my place. We can go back and listen to them before I take you home. It’s still so early. We can all have a good time together, right Oli?” I try not to show the tears welling up in my eyes, but I give a jerky nod to him in response. He chuckles.

“Um..I mean...I guess that’s okay. I’ll just tell my Ma when I get home that I stopped by a friend’s house. I do it all the time.” I could see the teenage rebellion in her. Sneaking out and not telling her mom where she was. I shake my head and look out the window again.

As we reach J’s house, he releases my hand and begins to jog up to the steps to unlock the door. 

“Come on, come in.” She leaves her stuff in the car and follows close behind me as we walk up his front steps. The house actually is decorated nicely. He left it the same way his Grandmother left it. I remember when she died and his parents dug through all her stuff to sell everything valuable. Nobody wanted the old house, so he took it. He was happy he could have his own place to live. It made it easier for when they came here…

“Welcome to my humble home! There’s beer in the fridge if you’re interested.” He sends her a wink and slinks into the kitchen. I follow after him as she wanders the living room. I grab his hand and grip it so tightly I was sure I would bruise him.

“What the fuck are you doing?!” He looks my way and pushes up his glasses to his forehead. His glare is icy.

“What do you mean, babe?”

“Don’t fucking babe me. What are you doing?! You promised this was over. You promised me you weren’t going to do this again.” I was whimpering like a child now. I hated this. He lets out a slow grin and shakes his head.

“You went along with it. You coulda' said no. You coulda' done something.” My lip trembles as I wipe my dripping nose.

“I can’t...you know I can’t.” He leans down to grip my chin and kiss the top of my head. He breaths in my hair, touching his forehead to mine and letting out a low chuckle again.

“I know. It’s okay. It’ll all be okay.” I was tired of hearing that.

“It won’t be okay and you know that.” I counter back weakly. He shakes his head and drops my chin, grabbing the beers and excusing himself into the living room where she was waiting. All bright eyes and eager smiles. Her legs crossed and arms folded in front of her.

“Now, let's get this party started, shall we?” 

We drank for I don't even remember how long. The background noise of him putting on the television makes the room seems bigger. I let myself go. I always seem to. I'm always so weak. The lines blurred early on. I was delirious. Betty-Ann’s laughing and my own mixed together with J by my side. He was the cool weight that I needed to keep me from floating away. I wanted to just float and float until I could touch the stars. 

I remember him kissing her. I remember him kissing me. I remember the tears clouding my vision when he ran his fingers through my hair and told me I was perfect. His. I wanted it so badly. 

When I woke up next, I was on his beat-up old puke-colored couch. Yellow and dusty. I coughed and groaned as I moved. I staggered myself to his bed. Face first into inky blue blankets. Smells of smoke, vodka, and Chinese-takeout filled my senses. I sniffed the pillow deeply and settled my face into it.

Settling into a deep sleep, I awoke to the creak of the door. I didn't want to open my eyes. It was too bright. Too painful. 

 

“What are you doing in here, babe? I thought I left you in the living room.” He clicks his tongue and settles his body on top of me. I groan and squeeze my eyes shut. 

“I washed you up and everything. You were so covered in blood, Oli. God. You really hated this one, huh?” More tears spill from my closed eyes. I was horrible. All for this stupid man. 

He touched my cheek. His hand was slick. Smelling of copper. I gasp as he brought the red stained hand to my lips and pulled back the skin.

“I’m so proud of you, Oliver.” He kissed me. He tasted like blood. I cried out, but he gripped my face tightly. He always got so excited after all this. When he got me so angry and then he made me lose my control. He was always there for me when it was over. To kiss me and hold me and tell me I was perfect. 

“Don't worry. She's gone. I do it for you, Oli. Always.” I block out my memory. I block out the knife. The way I plunged it into her when she kissed him. Her screaming. Her wide eyes. The look on his face. The look of glee. His lips on mine after as I blacked out.

“You're the only one for me” he mutters as he runs his hands under my shirt. “Just because they look like you, that don't mean I'll leave you. You're mine. We do this together.”

I learned early on how sadistic he was. How he enjoyed when I got angry. Angry when he flirted. Those fucking other girls. I stabbed a girl to death the first time when I caught her in his car, her mouth on his neck, but he was only looking at me. I remember trying to attack J. The way he grabbed the knife from me and slashed at my face, creating the scar above my eye. I remember him taking me into his arms and kissing me as I bled and cried. His grin was so wide. He was laughing. This was a game to him. 

His hands ripped the shirt from my torso. He mouths at my neck and my chest. I grab the back of his neck, fingers in his hair. He chuckles and kisses behind my ear. 

“Love of my life. Do you see how well we work together? I'll always clean up for you.” I didn't want to do this. Killing people. I was shaking, and he shushes me and runs a hand down my stomach and grips my dick through my pants. My breathing speeds up. He always knows what to do. 

“I'll take care of you” he whispers, his voice clouded. The sound of unzipping is haunting. He hauls my pants off and kisses a knee. 

“Do you wanna do this, baby?” 

“Yes.” My voice is raw. He smiles. It's soft. Softer than I'm used to. He probably knows I've been crying. I can feel how red my eyes are. I can feel my body shaking. 

“I...I didn't mean to do it. I never mean to.” He grips my chin and kisses my nose. 

“It's okay, honey. My love for you is boundless and infinite. You and I work great together. We always have. You can do it, and I can clean it up. I enjoy helping you, Oliver. We can always do this together. Me and you. No need to be upset. If you go down, I'll always follow.” He rubs his nose up and down the curve of my jaw. He kisses and bites the tender flesh there. I know it'll bruise. I whimper. His words always have me ready. Willing. Such a smooth talker.

“I'll do everything. Just lay there.” He lifts my legs and drape them over his shoulders. He positions himself over me and reaches under a pillow. He pulls out a bottle of lube and a condom. I close my eyes and ready myself. 

“I'll go slow. I promise.” He dribbles the liquid over his palm and wiggles his fingers. Positioning himself over me, he pushes a blunt finger inside of me. I gasp, and the pain is both scary and inviting. He’s always been the only one to hurt me. From when he cut my face, to when we make love. Only he is allowed to allow me any sort of anguish. I move my hips around, and he adds another, kissing behind my ear again. It makes me flush and I squirm even more.

“It's okay, lovely.” 

He then adds another. Three is really too much. It's blunt. It's inside of me. I like losing control with him. He always seems to be in control of me. I want so badly to let him be in control of me. I cry again. 

“Does it hurt?” 

“No...it's enough. I don't want to be me anymore.” The gentle smile returns and he continues to work the fingers inside of me. He's hitting a spot inside of me and working me open. It feels amazing. I forgot about the pain. I forgot about the anguish of the night before. About all the nights before. All the times I lost control of myself for him. 

“Okay. Here goes.” He pulled the condom over his dick and then slicks it with lube again. He flips me over. He then rubs a small amount over my entrance and kisses my spine. I turn to look at him and his face is tender. 

“Here we go. I'm going to start, okay? It won't hurt. I won't let you hurt anymore.” The burn is instant. It feels messy. Raw. Real. I cry out as he enters and slowly inches into he bottoms out. He lets out a huff and then kisses my sweaty hair. 

“I love you.” It's sweet. I want to hold his hand. Somehow he knows, and he grips my hand loosely in his. 

His rhythm is slow. It's almost like a dance. Like we're moving together. It's beautiful. As he moves, I can hear his breathing. Rushed and sporadic. He seems more in pain than I am. I want to kiss him. 

“Are you okay?” I nod. One hand is in mine, the other grips the headboard above us. I can feel his sweat slicked skin on mine. It smells like sex in the room. Sex and us. I'm so used to this. I don't even remember when we first did this. We always seem to blur together.

I can feel him pick up his pace. My panting gets shorter and harder to keep inside, and he grunts. 

“I think I'm almost there. Are you close?” I nod below him. He flips me over again, and I'm looking into his sweating red face. His sweet freckles remind me of when we were kids, and I remember a fleeting picture of innocence between us. When was that destroyed? 

“Oh god...you're beautiful.” His eyes are wide. Almost like he's seeing me for the first time. Like it hasn't been 15 years since we first held hands together on the playground. I roll my eyes. 

“Kiss me.” He does, and we both finish together. 

He collapses on top of me, and I roll over so he does not squish me with his bigger body. 

“You’re always amazing, Oli.” He pulls off and deposits the condom in the trash next to his trash. It’s already full of bloody rags. This reminds me he is still covered in blood. I am too now. 

“We should go clean up again. It's cold.” I nod blindly and he drags me to his bathroom. I feel numb, Like he’s taken my soul. He scrubs my body and then his own, I feel loved. I feel whole. I know at least right now, he's all and only mine. In this space. 

He puts me in one of his shirts and a pair of old sweatpants. They are warm and smell like him. He settles me into the bed and rakes his hands through my hair gently. 

“You'll always have me, Oliver. Even in the dark times, I'm here. This place is yours. I'm yours.” He settles beside me and wraps me into his arms. His facial hair tickles my skin and I move even closer to him. I run my fingers through his beard and kiss his lips. 

Only here is it gentle. Out there, he is a predator. He enjoys when I lose control. When he's in charge. When he can break me and put me back together. He knows when I'm in pain, and he fixes me. He cleans the mess with a charming smile.

In the background, I can hear the faint lull of the abandoned television telling of a mother pleading for her daughter to come home. She’s a frequent runaway. Her mother is bedridden. I can hear her hollow sobs. J sensually strokes my skin and kisses my face to try to put me back to sleep. 

I am a serial killer, and still, he loves me.


End file.
